What is this, the East Coast?

It was 103 here on Monday. 103!!! I mean, c'mon, already? I don't expect those kinds of temps until late July/August, and I was simply not prepared. All the chores I meant to do after work got shelved until a cooler day, while I sat around reading about farming (I've just discovered Ben Hewitt).  The bees bearded outside the hive on the landing board, fanning desperately.

Then, Tuesday was very warm and humid. And now today, rain! Which is fabulous! and also unexpected. The rain feels warm and remember, we're not used to warm rain or warm humidity of any kind. I can't get the house cooled off, and I'm remembering summer days in the suburban Maryland of my youth.

So not only does the weather feel East-Coasty, but then this morning at 7 a.m., a sod truck pulled into our neighborhood.

A sod truck.

I'm trying to restrain myself, so I'll just say this: How obtuse do you have to be to plant your yard with GRASS in JUNE in the middle of the worst DROUGHT California has ever seen? I'm not a huge fan of the news and don't see much of it, but you can hardly escape the tone of disaster percolating here in Northern California when it comes to water.


But I'm a dingbat too. I have one rain barrel hooked up and ready to go as always, but I have a new rain barrel sitting here ready to receive water and it's not hooked up. Argh.

Anyway, the garden loves this rain, of course. I can feel everything exhaling in relief. With sun tomorrow, everything will have a fresh burst of growth, and everything will look washed.

We're harvesting peaches, strawberries, blueberries, huckleberries, Bibb lettuce, peas, collards, and carrots. The cucumber beetles seem to have settled in for the long haul and are deep in the Bibb lettuce, so sometimes after picking I just throw the whole harvest in to the chickens, so they get the greens and the bugs. I don't mind a few bugs in my produce, but there is a twisted sense of satisfaction in feeding bugs to the chickens.

We're getting 1-2 eggs every day, they are still small and super cute, but also quite tasty. Stand-up yolks and firm whites, the mark of fresh and healthy eggs. Every egg we get is still a miracle - I feel the same way about the eggs as I do a just-pulled carrot: How did THAT get here? Seeds are a miracle, and so are eggs. Thank you, chickens.

Rain in the wildflower seedlings